


Adventures in Frosting

by Ismene_Jane



Series: Birthday fics [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Brotp, Bucky Barnes & Clint Barton Friendship, Culinary catastrophes, M/M, Mentions of Sex, No cakes were harmed in the making of this story, Snark, So fluffy you're gonna die, That are saved, i crack myself up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes home to a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in Frosting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pegasus_Eridana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/gifts).



> Aaaaaaaand here's the last birthday fic of the year! Again for the glorious Pegasus_Eridana who loves my Clint and my Stucky. So bully for that. 
> 
> Thanks to said glorious Goddess for editing her third birthday ficcie.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Awwww, frosting, no.”

Steve smiled as he opened the door to hear Clint expressing his unbearable disappointment in a sugary concoction. It wasn’t strange at all to hear Clint’s voice in his and Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment. Ever since Bucky had come back (finally) and gone through the healing process (painfully), he and Clint had formed a very tight bond that subsisted on mutual respect and lots of terrible reality television. Steve couldn’t stomach the stuff, but he was glad that Bucky had found a friend. Besides Steve. With whom Bucky wasn’t having sex on a regular basis.

At least, Steve _assumed_ they weren’t having sex on a regular basis.

But that was just insecure folly. Bucky was clearly completely gone on Steve, and had apparently been so for many _many_ years (and what an incredible revelation that had been. This century had a few things going for it, Steve had to admit); and Steve was pretty sure that, bionic arm or no, Coulson would figure out a way of gutting Bucky if he ever went anywhere near Clint’s manly bits. It would most likely involve a stapler or paper clip or some other seemingly innocent office tool.

Still, that didn’t explain why Clint was griping at frosting. Steve finished entering the apartment and shut the door behind him.

“Hey guys,” he said. “I’m home! What’s going on…?” The question trailed off into nothing as he surveyed the apartment before him.

It looked like a war zone in the middle of a bakery.

There was flour _everywhere_ and eggs had broken on the floor and—was that _batter_ on his brand new convection oven/top-of-the-line stove that Tony had gotten him and Bucky as a house-warming present?

Someone was gonna pay.

Steve let that murderous thought stay in his brain as his gaze settled on Clint. The archer was also covered in various stages of cake-making and was looking a little paler than usual.

As soon as Clint saw Steve, he actually _squawked_ , putting the bowl of frosting he was currently mutilating behind his back in a futile attempt to hide the carnage. It would have been amusing if Steve wasn’t currently calculating the time and energy he’d have to spend cleaning up this mess.

He raised an eyebrow instead, looking around the room pointedly and then back to the bowl that was obviously behind Barton’s back.

Clint ducked his head sheepishly and put the bowl back on the counter (that Steve couldn’t even see because it was literally _covered_ in flour and God knew what else). 

“Um… Surprise?” Clint said, trying to smile but faltering under Steve’s withering gaze. “You weren’t supposed to be home yet. Bucky _said_ you weren’t gonna be home until later. He said— _Bucky_!!!”

Steve jumped at Clint’s sudden yell and then had to hide a laugh from where Bucky came skidding out of the living room, gun in hand and in the middle of pulling out a second gun from… his butt?

“You keep a gun in your butt? How did I miss that?” Steve asked at the same time Bucky yelled: “Stevie?! It’s just Stevie?! Jesus _Christ_ , Clint, don’t _scare_ me like that.”

All this happened as Clint yelped, startled, and dropped the bowl of frosting on the floor. The bowl miraculously stayed intact but most of the frosting was now spilled.

“Aw, Barnes, _no_!” Clint yelled, hands fisted in his hair in frustration.

“I don’t keep a gun in my butt, Stevie, but I keep it behind my left hip, sometimes. Not usually when we’re…”

“It’s not my fault you automatically assume the worst, Barnes, but what the hell is he doin’ here?”

“Why is my kitchen covered in… whatever the heck it’s covered in?”

“You told me you wouldn’t be home for another three hours, and Clint an’ me—”

“Clint and _I_ ,” Clint muttered. The arguing stopped abruptly as Bucky leveled a murderous look at Clint.

“ _Really_ , Barton? You’re gonna grammar police me right now?”

“No excuse for bad grammar, Bucky-my-man,” Clint replied with a grin.

“I hate you.”

“You’re a horrible liar for a super-spy.”

“Uh, guys?” Steve interjected, raising his hand. “Still don’t know what’s going on here.”

Bucky and Clint both turned their attention to Steve… and smirked. In unison. Why did he allow his partner to be friends with Hawkeye? Why?

“You got a question, Mr. Rogers?” Bucky drawled, unable to suppress a slight chuckle.

Steve had had enough. He lowered his hand, exasperated (even more so as he felt his ears heat in embarrassment. Great, first the “language” joke, now this?), and then squared his shoulders.

“Yeah, Buck. And I’ve asked it,” he said, starting to look for a fight. “Someone needs to tell me why my kitchen is covered in cake guts, and they need to do it _now_.”

Steve felt a little bit mollified as he saw Clint swallow, obviously nervous.

“Uh…” Clint started, picking up the now half-full bowl of frosting off the floor. “It was supposed to be your surprise birthday party.”

“But,” Steve answered, astonished. “My birthday isn’t for another two weeks!”

Bucky grinned and walked over to Steve. Steve felt his muscles instantly relax when Bucky encircled him in his arms. Bastard.

“Exactly,” Buck said, rubbing circles into Steve’s back. “We wanted it to really be a surprise.”

Steve leaned forward and kissed Bucky, lightly.

“That was really sweet, Buck.”

“Yeah!” Clint piped up, effectively breaking the moment (which had, no doubt, been his purpose). “And Phil was supposed to keep you occupied until six! But it’s three, now, so what gives?”

Steve broke away from Bucky and walked over to Clint. He dipped his finger in the frosting and licked it off, ignoring Clint’s indignant, “Hey!”

“I have a meeting with him in ten minutes,” he said, eyeing Bucky as he dipped his finger back into the frosting. “But I came home to see if Bucky was around and wanted to… dance.” He licked the frosting off more slowly this time, enjoying the darkening of Bucky’s eyes and the way his bionic hand tightened on the counter, creating a creaking sound.

Clint looked between the two super-soldiers and sighed.

“Nope,” he said. “Not today, boys. Steve,” he said, pushing Steve forcefully from the frosting. “You’re going back to HQ or wherever. But you’re gonna make yourself scarce for the next three hours while we finish getting ready and then you’re gonna act _real_ surprised when you get back. Got it?”

Steve nodded his head, bemused. Normally, Clint didn’t get this pushy and it was almost… cute.

“Good,” Clint nodded, turning to point at Bucky, which effectively stopped the other man from where he was sneaking around the counter to get closer to Steve. “Bucky. Stop it. Go finish decorating and then call Bruce because we’re gonna need his expert cleaning skills and crazy science-bro supplies to get this shit taken care of before six.”

Bucky hung his head and looked so pathetic that Steve couldn’t help stealing a quick kiss as he made for the door.

“Now!” Clint yelled, breaking them apart once again.

“Sir, yes sir!” Bucky said, saluting playfully and swatting Steve on the ass. “I’ll see you later, Captain,” he added, voice full of delicious promise.

Steve felt warmth fill him from head to toe and he pulled Bucky in for one final kiss.

“Looking forward it, soldier,” he whispered against Bucky’s smiling lips. Then he ran for the door before Clint could throw something at him. He knew from experience that Hawkeye’s aim was just as good with a wooden spoon or a cup measurer as it was with an arrow.

He closed the door behind him, feeling lighter than he had in years.

***

The party went amazingly well.

Clint’s cake had actually turned out spectacularly, and Steve would have paid money to see how he’d done it. It was a red velvet cake with the middle layer dyed blue instead. The cream cheese frosting was perfect and Clint had somehow created a frosting replica of Steve’s shield on top.

The decorations made Steve’s heart swell. Since they didn’t know which birthday to celebrate (he was either thirty-five or ninety-seven, depending on how you looked at it), they had just stuck to messages about how glad they were that Steve was alive. And around.

Now, in bed with Bucky after the party was over, Steve snuggled into his lover and sighed happily.

“Thanks, Buck. It was a really great birthday.”

“S’not over yet, Stevie,” Bucky said as he moved Steve onto his back and hovered over him. “I think I was promised some dancing.”

Steve laughed, delighted because of his party, his current position, and just life in general.

“Pretty sure we danced at the party, Buck,” he said, playfully.

“Not the kind of dancing I meant, Pal,” Bucky replied, leaning down and kissing Steve softly.

Steve smiled into Bucky’s mouth and deepened the kiss, tangling their tongues together. As he lost himself in his lover’s taste, which was sweeter than usual, Steve thought to himself:

_Mmm, frosting, yes._    

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments=Clint bakes you a cake. :)


End file.
